


But Susan Just Had England

by trinsy (crackdkettle)



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-18
Updated: 2009-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-07 11:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackdkettle/pseuds/trinsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't that she stopped believing in Narnia...</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Susan Just Had England

It wasn’t that she stopped believing in Narnia.

Or, all right, maybe it was. More to the point, she stopped believing that they’d ever get back, and it was easier just to scrap the whole thing than to have to deal with what was lost.

The reality was they were never going back, and England was their life now, and there was no point pretending any differently, and there was certainly no point in talking about it. Professor Kirke and Polly had never got back once they’d grown up, and the fact was the four of them _were_ growing up, however much Peter and the others tried to pretend otherwise. So what was the point of obsessing over everything they’d lost? Better to accept the reality of England, and _enjoy_ it as well.

So she put on her lipstick and went to her parties, and ignored the incredulous, outraged, and hurt looks that Peter, Edmund, and Lucy gave her, respectively. Let them cling to the past if they wanted to; _she_ was living in the present, and loving every moment.

All right, that wasn’t strictly true. Not _every_ moment. When it came down to it, she missed them sometimes. They’d been through some incredible things together, and it was harder to forget that than it was to forget just what those incredible things were. So she couldn’t help feeling left out when they all went away for their little Narnian reunions. Sometimes she thought it might be worth it to deal with all the pain of the Narnian part of her past just to be included again.

Then she’d go dance until dawn, because she knew she’d never have a normal adult life thinking things like that.

Of course, it had always been like that, right from the very beginning – or rather, from the end of the very beginning.

Coming back from Narnia the first time had been different for the others. Lucy, she knew, had never wavered in her belief that one day they’d get back.

Edmund was more ambivalent, but it didn’t matter so much for Edmund because he’d got something out of the experience. Edmund didn’t need to go back; he just wanted to.

She was never quite sure whether Peter thought they were going to get back or not, and maybe it didn’t matter for him either. Something of Narnia had always clung about him afterward: in the way he walked, in the way he addressed himself. It wasn’t snobbery about being the High King, but more a sort of quiet certainty that he was destined for some sort of greatness.

But Susan had none of these things: no child-like belief, no change of character, no certainty of greatness. Susan just had England. And while the others whispered about Narnia, she had thrown herself into that reality, because that was easier, and really, what else did she have? There was nothing in Narnia for her to hold onto.

And then, incredibly, they had got back, and at first it was wonderful, but all that trip had really done was prove that it wasn’t the same, and confirm her nagging suspicion that Narnia wasn’t for her anymore, that maybe it never had been.

It hadn’t helped when Aslan had taken Peter and her aside and destroyed any shred of hope she may have had of a third sojourn. For Peter it hadn’t mattered. It was as if he had always known this would be the end, and it didn’t change anything: he still had his destiny. Edmund and Lucy, meanwhile, had nearly a promise of returning. Susan had nothing.

That had always been the terrible truth of it: Peter had his destiny; Edmund and Lucy had Narnia. But Susan just had England, and England had to do.

The others might gaze at her incredulously, marvel that she could forget Narnia, mock her love of lipstick and parties, but it was different for them. They’d always had something she hadn’t, something beyond this reality, something to hold onto. She had nothing.

Nothing.

Peter had invited her to the Narnian reunion, of course, but rather with an air of one getting the obligatory out of the way. He hadn’t really expected her to come, and she couldn’t blame him, not when she mocked them about Narnia as she did. She knew she couldn’t bear going and listening to the others, to their persistent, unshakable _hope_. She also knew she could never explain this to Peter, so she just said, “Still playing games, Peter?” and walked away laughing. It had taken all her willpower not to turn right back around and beg to come.

She was in her spacious upstairs room in her friends’ London home, dressing for that evening’s party, and trying not to think about those seven probably all sitting around some table yammering on about Narnia and the hope they had that she hadn’t, when there was a knock and the maid entered.

“Telephone for you, Miss Pevensie.”

“Thank you, take a message for me,” Susan replied.

“He says it’s urgent, miss.”

“Who?” asked Susan, intrigued.

The maid shook her head. “He didn’t give his name.”

Still barefoot, hair everywhere, Susan made her way to the upstairs sitting room and picked up the receiver.

“Susan Pevensie speaking.”

“Su?” came an achingly familiar voice. “It’s Peter.”

She clutched at the phone convulsively.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Listen, Su,” he said, very awkwardly, “Edmund and I have to – that is, we’re going to –”

She had never heard him talk like this before: it was as if he wasn’t sure where he stood with her anymore, didn’t know how much he could tell her. And then he said with more conviction,

“Look, the thing is, Ed and I are going to be in your area tomorrow, and we’re meeting Lucy and the others at the train station before Eustace and Jill head back to school. I’m sure you’re _busy_ ” – he laid a careful emphasis on the word, and Susan winced – “but we wondered if maybe you’d like to come and –”

“I’ll be there,” she interrupted, without really thinking about it, which was probably better.

There was a pause.

“What?” said Peter finally, sounding half taken aback, half incredulous.

“I said I’ll be there,” she said. “I’m free.”

“You sure there isn’t some party you’ll need to be getting to?” It was the subtlety of the edge in Peter’s voice that made the question so stinging.

“I’ll be there,” she repeated.

“Oh. Well, good,” said Peter, and his voice softened slightly. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you then.” She started to add that she missed him, but Peter had already hung up.

 

Only there wasn’t a tomorrow. Not the one she and Peter were referring to anyway. There she was, entering the station, and there were Peter and Edmund, backs to her, waiting on the platform, and there was the train, rounding the corner, and then –

She could see Narnia coming toward her. Not the Lion, nor the Witch, nor even those funny, gorgeous Talking Animals. She saw the four of them standing together, in the middle of a wood in winter – or was it a beach in summer? – just the four of them, together, and that was Narnia, coming toward her, coming so fast now, coming so, so fast, and she desired and feared it in equal measure as it rushed toward her, so terribly, terribly fast, and –

The deafening sound of metal against metal. Screams.

And she knew with a horrible finality that Narnia would never reach her.


End file.
